The Next Era
by Halicyon
Summary: The next generation of Harry Potter, as told from the POVs of first years Rose Weasley and Albus Potter. How will they react to their new school? Will they overcome the struggles they face, which differ from those of their parents but are just as challenging?
1. Rose's Sorting

**This fan fiction consists of the next generation of Harry Potter. I, Hali, have been working on it with my friend Eva and we would like to share it with you guys. Have fun reading, and please make sure to recommend suggestions and comments so we can make our writing even better! My friend and I are uncertain whether we should continue through the rest of Rose and Albus Potter's first year, so it would be helpful to us if you could comment on your personal thoughts on that. Thank you and enjoy!**

**- Hali & Eva**

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><p><em><strong>Rose <strong>_

Rose's pale face seemed to contrast her red hair even more sharply than usual as she slowly opened her eyes. This was it. The Hat rustled slightly on her mess of strawberry waves, and Rose flinched in anticipation of what she knew was going to come next.

The Hat seemed amused by her reaction to its idle movement on her curls, and Rose immediately raised her head higher despite her pounding heart to reclaim her dignity. Rose didn't know what house she'd be in, but she knew the one she wanted and hoped with all her heart it would be the one she'd end up with.

_Ah, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, respectable houses on both sides of the family! Now let's see… Oh, you're a smart cookie, aren't you? Hm, but you aren't quite so strategic. Hufflepuff?_

Rose shut her eyes tightly, feeling nauseous. Hufflepuff was the last place she wanted to go. Rose wanted to do something big with her life, to be truly great, and she didn't feel Hufflepuffs did that as much.

**Hufflepuff? **she asked curiously, making sure to not give anything away in her tone. She became a perfect mask of nonchalance. **How's that?**

Rose wished the Hat could be a little faster in its speech and decisions. She twiddled her thumbs and ran through the potions she knew already in her mind.

_Well, now, you're quite loyal to those you know and sympathetic to those in need of it. Oh, I think Hufflepuff is a good fit… But._

Rose slowly began simmering. What kind of proof was that? She was annoyed something she'd been anxiously awaiting for so long could be so casual and flippant. Wait… but what?

**Am I Hufflepuff or not? **she interrupted rudely. The Hat was toying with her, she knew it was. And she absolutely hated it, the feeling of impatience and being manipulated. The Hat thought it was very funny, she realized, as it sensed her anger and annoyance. Rose clenched her fists and held her breath in apprehension.

…_but not the best. What about Gryffindor? That might work. Ohhh, yes, I can see that. Those impulsive moments you get fit quite nicely there, hm? But how unusually smart and attentive of a child, too. I can feel that you love to learn. Mm, memorized some of a potions book already, have you? Which means the question that remains for us to consider is: Ravenclaw or Gryffindor? You have a quick temper, like your father showed me, but you very much care for your grades and education at the same time. A child that likes learning, but admires bravery… Oh, yes, I think I know just what you are, you complicated girl! _

Rose knew she should listen, but as the Hat went on and on in its gravelly voice, she tuned back in only to voice her own opinions.

**I just want to be known for doing something great, and Gryffindors probably accomplish that the most. I want to be good. Please, let me pick who I am and who I will be to some extent at least. **

Rose wanted be as influential to everybody surrounding her as she could. She wanted to have a good reputation and make an impact on the world.

_Hmm… seems like Slytherin, but not enough slyness, not cunning enough. Yes, I say no Slytherin. Do you agree, child, eh?_

Rose caught her breath as the Hat finally seemed done. She didn't respond.

Then it spoke on, slowly.

_Well, if you want to pick so much, what do you want to be? _

**Gryffindor.**

Rose replied instantly and without hesitation.

_Then so be it. I have deduced that this house will be good for you, as well. Maybe you'll even learn to control those mighty impulses and that mouth of yours at times._

Indignantly, Rose narrowed her eyes and stood a bit taller. After a moment of silence, Rose could hear the Hat deciding on an answer. Finally, it was announced.

Rose closed her eyes tightly. _Please,_ she told herself and the Hat. _Please!_

"_GRYFFINDOR!" _it finally screeched out.

Rose knew it was her determination and temper that made the decision really, but a surge of hope flashed through her heart for one brief moment. Could it really be that she was as brave as her father? Was she really going to be able to live up to these standards?

Nervously, Rose turned to fully face the crowd. All she heard was the thundering applause that filled the auditorium and all she saw were the smiles and proud, shining faces of her friends, but for some reason her fears didn't melt away like she'd thought. What if the Hat had labeled her wrong? What if she'd really been Hufflepuff all along? She'd be doomed to live _normally, boringly._ At least, she'd assumed. What would happen now that she was officially in Gryffindor?

Rose felt like she was in a daze for most of the remaining sorts, walking with no purpose and almost stumbling. One of her new housemates smiled at her warmly and she sat down.

When Albus Potter, her cousin, appeared in the Sorting Hat, Rose felt her nerves lift again for him. She'd always been close to Al and she hoped he got Gryffindor like he'd wanted, just like she did.

Albus Potter seemed confident, but Rose knew he had to be terrified underneath. Rose listened closely to the silence haunting the fateful decision of the two friends' futures. She'd been near Al enough to understand him by some of his body language. He was shifting and fidgeting as he often did, indicating that he was especially anxious and annoyed. The Hat must have been confusing or antagonizing him, Rose figured. She could hear her heart beat and felt sure everyone else could, too. She hated the silence, feeling something needed to be spoken. Rose was going to go stir-crazy from just waiting there, she knew, and she started adjusting herself on her seat, trying to control her brash, active mind.

In contrast to her previous rapidly pounding heart, Rose could've sworn her heart just stopped when she heard the loud Hat proclaiming Al's house. Her face paled. No, it couldn't be true.

"_SLYTHERIN!"_ came the gruff, but projecting, voice of the inanimate object they were all waiting on.

The auditorium was silent. Again. But this time it was a terse, shocked silence. Nobody wanted to be the first one to make a noise, afraid it would echo all around. Rose saw all of this, but she saw it from a distance; she thought she was dreaming, but the events in front of her unfolded so clearly she knew she wasn't. Her vision swam, first in disbelief, and then in slow anger.

All these people who didn't even know Albus Potter were judging him? How dare they! All the frustration boiled and squirmed inside of Rose Weasley until she snapped from the pressure. This wasn't only about Al now, it was about her own struggles combined with his.

As forcefully as she could, Rose jumped from her chair and started clapping furiously. She didn't care that it was extremely loud, almost too loud, and all she could see was Albus staring helplessly into the crowd, waiting futilely for that bail out of the room. What if she could be that bail? What if she didn't have to see her friend in such an awful position after all?

Rose kept her head high as she whirled to face the people closest to her. She glared at her housemates with a look that could freeze them if put to the test. Her hair flew around her like flames protecting her from the outside world. Rose was invincible, and she would convince her housemates to help Al feel that way, too.

"Don't just sit and stare, HELP me!" Rose whisper-yelled to her table. She roughly took the hand of the girl who had smiled warmly at her when she'd first been called to the house of Gryffindor. Pulling her up, Rose noticed that the girl was staring at her like she was completely stupid. Ignoring the look, she stared pointedly at the girl while continuing to clap. After a seemingly long, very awkward silence from her, the girl shook her head in exasperation and began to clap. A grin threatened to split her cheeks as she put her hands together for Albus, and Rose smiled too as she gratefully knew she'd picked the right person to confront.

Everybody in the room stood up and clapped as well, as if that had been the signal for them to join in, while attempting to steal glances at Rose and her housemate, both of whom were standing tall and proud.

Like the flower of her namesake, Rose could be gentle and knowledgeable. Sometimes. But it was times like now when you saw all of her, including her thorns.


	2. Albus' Sorting

_**Albus**_

"Potter, Albus."

Warily, Albus walked to the front of the room, where the hat was to determine what house he'd be placed in. The moment of truth was coming, and he wasn't quite sure he was ready.

He closed his eyes as the Sorting Hat was placed on his head. When it started speaking to him, he startled. It sounded exactly like he would have expected a hat to sound, although he'd ever really thought about it.

_Not quite as easy to place as your brother, are you? Ah, yes, he was a Gryffindor through and through. His namesake, your grandfather, was similarly an obvious choice. Even that Sirius Black! He emerged from a family of Slytherins, too. And then there's your mother. A Weasley, wasn't she? Lots of courage there. You seem to take after your father, who was a bit more difficult to place. Hmm. I see. Yes, I find you have a strong sense of friendship, common for Hufflepuffs, but you lack the patience and kindness that defines them. One House we can cross off our list, eh? _

Albus wasn't sure where this was going.

_A sharp mind as well. Pretty clever, aren't you? That would usually point towards Ravenclaw, but I find your skills will be better served elsewhere. _

What does that mean?

**What does that mean?** He mentally asked the Hat.

It just chuckled and continued, completely disregarding Albus's utterly rational question.

_Yes, I think we can get rid of Ravenclaw as well. You remind me so much of your father, but there's something that goes beyond that. You've definitely got bravery- _

Hope suddenly surged through him. Maybe his worries had been for naught. Maybe he'd be in Gryffindor, like the rest of his family.

-_however._

**However?**

That didn't sound promising.

_Your father, like you, had more than just courage. _

The Hat said this so offhandedly that Albus found himself growing irritated at it. Surely courage was the most important quality to have?

_There was so much he could've done with that power. Sadly, he dismissed it as merely a connection to Lord Voldemort, and never reached his full potential. You, on the other hand, could be something more. Something far greater than you've ever dared to dream. _

What? Albus tried to make sense of what the Hat was telling him. **You mean...Slytherin? No! Anything but Slytherin.** Hadn't his father told him that he could decide for himself?

The Hat seemed amused as it responded, _do not let prejudice and fear affect your choices, Albus. Tell me this: would you belong in Slytherin? _

**No! I mean, if I did, my family would KILL me - and my brother -**

How would his family react to this? Especially James, who had been teasing him endlessly about the possibility that he'd get Slytherin.

_But would you belong? Maybe Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw would be a better fit, then… what do you think?_

**Hufflepuff? I don't really think so. And I'm not smart enough for Ravenclaw. Isn't that what you've already told me?**

_Is it? _

How vague could this hat get?

Frustrated, Albus opened his eyes. He swept them across the room to find everyone staring directly at him. He fidgeted nervously, suddenly aware of how long he was taking to be sorted. Neville - er, Professor Longbottom - had warned them beforehand that it may take longer for different people to be sorted. His had taken the longest so far, and everyone was waiting impatiently for the Hat to finally make a choice. Rose was smiling at him encouragingly, and James looked as nervous as Albus felt as he watched from the Gryffindor table. Albus desperately wanted to join the table and prove his older brother wrong. Yet Albus still wasn't sure if he belonged there. He wasn't as much impulsive as cunning; he thought things through, whereas James just went for it. Maybe that was a sign that Albus wasn't truly a Gryffindor. Was Slytherin really right for him? He had to admit that he possessed many qualities commonly affiliated with Slytherins. And there were the whispering snakes, beckoning…

Albus shook his head and shut his eyes tightly.

**My dad said I could choose!**

_Then what is your choice? _

The Hat was laughing at him, he knew it.

**My choice is to prove to my family that I can belong! **

As the middle child and younger son in the Potter family, Albus felt he had a lot to prove. His brother had obviously been Gryffindor from the start, continuing the family legacy. Albus didn't want Gryffindor just for the sake of getting Gryffindor; he wanted his family to accept him as being just as brave as them, like his brother had. Everyone in his family was considered a hero, and all of them had been Gryffindor. Albus wanted to prove that he belonged among the rest of the courageous Gryffindor heroes in his family. Yet, at the same time, he yearned to be away from all that publicity he got just from his father. Albus wanted to live up to his family's standards, but he wanted it on his own terms.

_Interesting. Are you sure? In that case…_

Now he was certain that the Hat was laughing at him.

_I know just what to do with you. Don't worry, you will get the chance to prove yourself. In this house, you will be able to reach your full potential. _

Albus knew what was coming, but he still dreaded it.

"_SLYTHERIN_!"

He reached up to yank off the Hat. He had know what was coming all along, after all, how could he not have foreseen it? But he was still angry, at his father for telling him he could choose, at James for ridiculing him, at the hat for its decision, but mostly at himself. Now he would become the first and only Slytherin in the entire Potter/Weasley family. Now every bad word said about the house would be applied to him. He sighed as he handed the hat back to the professor, who nodded in an almost sympathetic manner.

Albus turned to face the other students again. He had heard that at his father's sorting, the entire Great Hall had exploded into applause. His cousins and brother had also gotten good responses. In fact, every single person had at least received polite clapping from the older students.

Except for him.

A shocked silence fell over the crowd. Albus dared not to look over at James, fearing that the Gryffindor would be gazing at him with disappointment. As if he'd let down the entire family. Albus hesitated before stepping away from the chair. He nearly tripped on a one of the steps, but managed to recover and slowly stumble over towards the Slytherin table. Just before he could take his place at the table, he heard someone jump up from their seat; one small sound that broke through the silence.

It was Rose. She had leapt up from her place at the Gryffindor table and was now clapping furiously. Albus stood, frozen in place, as she yelled to the others at her table, encouraging (or, more accurately, demanding) them to cheer for her cousin. Reluctantly, the rest of the table rose as well and followed her lead. Soon, hesitant applause filled the room. Then the shock seemed to wear off, because the sound became louder and more consistent.

Now Albus snuck a glance at James. He had remained seated, but he _was_ clapping. That had to count for something, right? Albus chose to ignore his stony expression of what looked like wonder, confusion, and even regret. Isn't that what James deserved, after how he'd teased Albus all this time about Slytherin? Albus was certain that for all of his teasing, James had never expected that his brother would _actually _be in Slytherin. Albus managed to flash Rose a grateful smile before he tore his eyes away from the Gryffindor table and turned to his new Housemates. They all seemed to be curious and a little cautious of him, but aside from that, they didn't look any different from the others. The way his Uncle Ron and James made it out to be, all Slytherins were evil and could do no good, like everyone was a Death Eater or something. Albus wasn't quite sure, but none of the students facing him looked anything like Death Eaters.

"Hey."

A voice jogged Albus from his thoughts.

He spun in his seat to face a pale, blonde kid whose expression reminded Albus of his old pet ferret, Checkers. Ginny hadn't been rather fond of the creature, so poor Checkers had ended up being passed away to one of their countless relatives. Actually, Albus wasn't sure who he was really related to anymore. They all acted like family, and they had all grown up together. Their family couldn't be defined in any way, it simply _was. _He only hoped his ferret had ended up in better hands than this boy, whose resemblance to Checkers grew more prominent the longer Albus looked, had. Because Albus realized he recognized this kid.

Scorpius Malfoy.

Albus had been hearing about this family for years, thanks to his Uncle Ron. According to him, they were purebloods who despised all muggles and muggle borns. Albus knew that his father, Aunt Hermione, and Uncle Ron had been enemies with Draco Malfoy, the father of Scorpius. Having to grow up in a family of purebloods, most of whom had either died or been locked away in Azkaban after the war, must've been hard for him.

"Hi," he replied, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. Scorpius raised an eyebrow, as if he was used to this reaction towards him.

"So, welcome to Slytherin." Scorpius said casually as he placed something on his plate. What? Albus was pretty sure that the food hadn't been there before. He must've been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he missed the rest of the sorting. "You know, my entire family's been Slytherin. If i didn't end up here, my father would've sent me to live with the house elves. Maybe I could've made some money working in the kitchens," Scorpius mused.

"Really? That's a bit harsh," Albus sympathized, recalling the time that Uncle Ron had made a similar threat with Rose about Gryffindor. "It's the opposite for me. Every one of my relatives have been Gryffindors."

Scorpius shrugged dismissively. "People tend to get the wrong idea about this House just because of the dark wizards that were in it. The others Houses have produced dark wizards themselves, but they don't like to admit it. I'm sure you'll find that it really isn't as bad as your family claims."

Albus nodded, but he was still worried about how his family would react. How could he tell them?

"Anyway. So you're Albus Potter, right? I'm Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy. But you already knew that, didn't you?" He grimaced slightly. "Our families both have quite a reputation, don't they?"

Albus knew that all too well. He told Scorpius this, who laughed.

"Oh, and you can call me Al." He smiled. Then he piled his plate with the magical and delicious looking food, while thinking that maybe being in Slytherin won't be as he had first thought. After all, if his father approved, then what could be so bad about it?

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><p><strong>Many of you had issues with Albus being in Slytherin, so hopefully this chapter clears up a few questions. I see your point, but I feel like in Slytherin he has the opportunity to change the perceptions of the Slytherin House. Even though the Slytherins helped in the war and aren't always bad people, they still receive so much prejudice from the other Houses, especially Gryffindor. Maybe Albus can be a pivotal part in changing that. Also, I realize the sorting is done alphabetically, however for the sake of the story I switched it up a bit. I pretended that Neville Longbottom decided to do it in reverse order or something like that so it could work out this way. It isn't very realistic, but that's just what I'm doing for the story.<strong>

**Anyway, this chapter might seem a bit different from the first one, but that's mostly due to both my writing style and the POV switch. Thank you for reading! This is my first fanfiction of this kind, so I'm really excited to see how it turns out. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything else you recognize. **


	3. Rose's First Day

**Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter.**

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><p><em><strong>Rose<strong>_

Rose was mesmerized by the swirling mess in front of her. With flourish, she started to add a horned slug, and then another, and then another, to her pot of items after waiting for exactly thirty-seven minutes. Rose murmured some ingredients for an antidote to common poisons as she worked to exercise her brain and jog her memory.

"Bezoar, unicorn horn, mistletoe berries…"

Rose knew Albus and his housemates also had to be there in the dungeon, so she had an opportunity to see who he would hang out with. This was because the class was shared with both Slytherin and Gryffindor. However, Rose was perfectly happy working on brewing a cure for boils by herself (well, technically with her partner) and didn't want to deal with any type of distractions of that sort.

It was the first class in Hogwarts for Rose and all of the rest of the first years, and Rose was attending potions with Professor Vaughan. She was surprised to find she had been paired with the girl who had clapped with her for Albus, her cousin, at his sorting. Rose was excited at first, until the familiar girl proceeded to sit back in luxury and let her do all the work. Not to say Rose didn't mind, or like it, even, but she had thought the girl would be a bit more collaborative and friendly. Rose tried to strike up at least a start to a conversation as she carefully took their cauldron off the fire.

"Hey, um, would you pass me those porcupine quills just beyond you? Yeah, those two right there, both of them. Thanks. So… Are you excited to be in Gryffindor?"

The girl shrugged and looked at Rose blankly. "Yeah, I guess."

...Okay, thought Rose. So she was not very social right now, but maybe Rose could get a little bit more out of her.

"I'm Rose. Yup, like the flower, I know. What's your name?"

"Chamomile. Yup, like the flower, I know." Chamomile smirked at Rose expectantly. Rose bit back harsh words and laughed dryly.

"Pretty name and interesting word choice. Got a nickname I can call you?"

"Cammie," came the nonchalant response. Rose wondered if this girl had been a tough choice or even a hat-stall between Gryffindor and Slytherin. What an attitude! There was a long silence.

"Your name's Chamomile and mine's Rose. Flower power, huh?" she grinned stupidly to break the tension. Cammie blinked and stared at her. Rose sighed and turned back to their cure for boils. "Or not," she muttered, slightly deflated.

There was a churning in her stomach as Rose stirred the ingredients. She felt like they looked now, all scattered and grimy and isolated. But would she ever come together like the items in the potion? Would she ever do anything, have any kind of big purpose? Rose sighed dejectedly and stared down at her cauldron. The bubbling slugs in there seemed to mock her, haughtily stating that they already knew their part in the action, and were a part of a purpose; to cure the boils of an organism. Rose stared more intensely at the metal container, noting all of its dents and scratches. She was interrogating the instrument with her gaze, holding it down with her piercing stare. The contents flowed more rapidly, Rose thought, but then she realized that her heart was just beating so fast and loud, it was reflecting on her senses. Rose's poisonous glare reluctantly softened towards the cauldron, and then Cammie finally looked up to meet her eyes. They were a hard, almond brown, but there was a small glint of light in them that made her look less intimidating and more witty somehow. Rose smiled softly, barely looking up enough to see Cammie's eye color; maybe she was going to be able to crack the challenging code of her partner after all. She knew she wouldn't give up until she broke through the barriers. Rose only worried that the walls she was fighting would rebound and collapse upon her with every blow she inflicted upon them.

Cammie slowly swallowed and walked over to Rose. "How is it coming along?" she asked. Her voice was soft, and yet with every consonant she enunciated, it projected around the room as clear as a crystalite. Rose was so entranced in the effort Cammie gave to reach out, she almost forgot to reply.

"Huh- oh, wait… The potion! Yes, the potion's doing great!" Rose laughed, almost too enthusiastically, and then bit her lip. "I think we're ready." She took out her wand and took a deep breath. Then she held it over the steaming, smelly pot, ignored the wriggling slugs inside, and gave a few flicks of her pale wrist. As quickly as she could, Rose turned back to Chamomile and let out a breath she'd been holding. She sure didn't want to see those slugs again, for how gross they were to place. Their slimy bodies made it extremely difficult to grab them, so Rose had had to attempt several times at correctly grasping them and dropping the slugs in the pot. The professor moved towards them, and Rose told him she and Cammie were ready to test the potion.

Chamomile looked just about ready to jump up and down when some of the boils on the poor animal cleared up, but Rose felt sick when she saw a few remain. She groaned inwardly and slumped back down in her chair, slouching and putting her head in her hands. Cammie didn't pay any attention and was smiling so widely, her cheeks seemed to be straining. She was clearly euphoric that the potion even sort of worked, a feeling Rose couldn't share. All she saw was another footstep she couldn't fill, another expectation she'd just failed. She slid further down in her seat and sighed audibly. Great. Well, maybe she'd prove herself in her next class. What was it again? Oh, that's right. She had Charms with Professor Dunlap.

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><p>Rose hurried down the hallways to her Charms room, wanting desperately to be one of the first kids so she could choose a seat near the front. After her failure to cure all the boils in Potions class, Rose wanted to excel even more now. She wished the qualities her mother possessed came as easily to her, but she wasn't sure. Rose smoothed her bland uniform without purpose, subconsciously trying to make herself look especially tidy and kempt. She wondered where Albus was going now, knowing he had been in her Potions class despite that Rose hadn't seen him. Well, at least she had one sort-of friend in her House: Cammie Marre.<p>

"Okay, who in here knows what Charms are?" asked Professor Dunlap. He looked slightly bored, Rose noted. Still, she tried to look enthusiastic as her hand shot up. The professor smirked at her and looked around. When another girl's hand in Ravenclaw climbed up slowly, He turned his piercing gaze on her. Rose scowled a bit at the competition as Professor Dunlap called on the Ravenclaw girl. Her opponent smugly glanced at her, flipping her layered, blonde hair. It certainly didn't help that the girl was absolutely gorgeous with those glittering green eyes and tan, Californian skin. Oh, it was on, Rose thought as she looked at her own messy, fiery hair.

"Charms are spells that add certain properties to an object or creature. The concept differs from Transfiguration because it centers around what an object does as opposed to what it is," the blonde stated. Rose grit her teeth as she realized how wonderfully worded the answer was. She refused to back down, mentally going through answers to any other possible questions the professor might ask. Professor Dunlap nodded curtly at the answer, letting a the right side of his mouth curl slightly for a brief moment before pacing to the other side of the room. His voice rang loud and clear, prompting Rose more awake immediately.

"Yes, yes, very good, two points to Ravenclaw."

The girl from Ravenclaw looked slightly miffed she only received two points for her House, but when she saw Rose looking, she put back on her mask of innocence and arrogance. Rose raised her own head higher and scowled harder. She prepared herself for the next question, but Professor Dunlap started a short lecture on what they would be doing in Charms and why it was important. Rose zoned out, bored, as she knew everything the professor was covering. Finally, she jolted upwards and got her game back on as she heard the ringing voice of her instructor say, "All right, open _The Standard Book of Spells_, which should be on your desk at this point, Mr. Whitaker." Francis Whitaker sighed audibly and plopped his textbook on his desk.

"Excuse me, Professor Dunlap, where do you want us to turn to?" asked a Gryffindor girl, whose name, as Rose recalled from the Sorting, was Casey Hendricks. The professor stiffened at the interruption but answered, "The chapter on the Fire-Making Charm, if you will." Obediently, all the students flipped through the book to find the given chapter, Rose included.

As the rustling of the pages settled, Professor Dunlap cleared his throat. "Now, who can tell me the necessary incantation for this spell?" Quickly, Rose scanned the page. Her hand went up a few seconds before the blonde Ravenclaw girl's, she saw with satisfaction. Her instructor nodded at her, signaling she should answer. "_Incendio_," she replied, trying to project her voice and appear confident. "Correct. Two points to Gryffindor," Professor Dunlap said. Rose was silently annoyed at these words. Would he ever give above two points? She didn't dare look at the Ravenclaw blonde for fear her temper would ignite and she'd get out of control at the trademark smirk that was surely on her face.

Class bore on, Professor Dunlap giving instructions and advice on how to perform the Fire-Making Charm. Finally, he said, "Please pair up with another person; now we will attempt to complete this charm. Don't worry if you don't succeed, but I expect you guys will all learn from your attempts. I am not controlling who you pair up with, but no fooling around! Especially you, Whitaker." Francis looked up from sniggering with his friend and made a look that said, "_Huh?_" Rose gave a snicker of her own at his naivete, looking around for Chamomile.

Kids murmured quietly as they looked around for their best friends. Rose turned away, minorly annoyed, as she saw Cammie chat enthusiastically with a friend. They'd probably work together, she figured. After almost everybody was with a partner, Rose looked around. She hadn't been able to find anyone who hadn't made a friend yet. Only she, the blonde Ravenclaw, and a few trouble-maker boys were left alone. Sighing in exasperation, she walked over to the Ravenclaw girl.

"Hey. What's your name?" she asked half-heartedly. Rose didn't really want to be with the girl, but she knew she had to.

The girl narrowed her eyes and flipped her hair. "Clara Witt," she said condescendingly. "But we should really get started on our project instead of socializing." Rose flinched when Clara said the word "socializing" but otherwise she kept her disposition pleasant.

"Yes, I agree. So about lighting a fire…" Rose trailed off as she looked in her textbook. "The wands we are grasping really don't look ready to produce a bunch of fire right now, do they?" she glanced pointedly to their dry wands. "So how do we do this?" Rose read the incantation aloud, slowly, as if breaking the word apart. Huh; Rose thought that the word "incendio" was Spanish for fire. Maybe that's where it originated; Spanish-speaking countries. Did it come from muggles, then? Rose would've pondered longer, but Clara was loudly reading directions from _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_. Rose tried to get back to the path which she had digressed with a mental sigh, knowing she wanted to impress Professor Dunlap more than ever.

Around Rose, many groups were trying unsuccessfully to cast the spell. Rose observed their small triumphs and failures and attempted to figure out what they were doing wrong. Clara, next to her, was uttering the incantation for the charm over and over again. Rose wanted to help her, to explain she should think about why she wasn't succeeding first, but then overruled that judgement; it might hurt her pride. Rose bit her lip and raised her wand, which fit snugly and amiably into her hand. She tried to think of strong memories, almost like you would whilst completing the Patronus spell. Rose had learned from watching her parents talk, Hermione and Ron, as well as Albus advising her, that to cast a strong spell, it was the caster and not the spell that determined everything. If your purpose, reason and feelings for summoning the charm were unperturbed and impregnable, the results would be more powerful.

Everything built up inside of Rose Weasley's head. She thought of her dearest memories of Hugo, her little brother, and then of the desperation he'd get better when he grew ill. She thought of pressure from her parents, and the permeating fear of never being able to fill in their big footprints, and then in contrast of how much she loved them. She thought of Cammie, the friend she thought she had, and then seeing her choose another person to work with. She thought of Albus and the distinct shock, fear, and agony on his face as the Sorting Hat yelled out the inevitable word: "SLYTHERIN!" Lastly, Rose thought of the color of her hair and, coincidentally, that same color on a rose. She thought of how much it had impacted her life, and how it would continue to. She imagined her blazing, boiling hair lashing out against enemies, reliving anything that had made her angry and left her feeling powerless. Rose summoned those thoughts and, in pure rage, she shouted, "_INCENDIO!"_

The only thing Rose could see or smell for minutes was the aroma of burning and the flash of beaming light that transpired afterward. There was complete silence in the classroom, but Rose barely noticed. She tried to regain her bearings, but her vision was still slightly blurred. She could, however, make out the silhouettes of a pale-faced Clara Witt, an amazed Cammie Marre, and a pleased Professor Dunlap. An incessant buzzing had control over her ears, but in a surreal-like state, she managed to hear the professor say, "Excellent! Absolutely exemplary! Five points for Gryffindor!" Although five wasn't a large number of points in the slightest, Rose felt elated and triumphant she'd earned more than the promised number, two. Also, Professor Dunlap had shown a lot more emotion than he'd shown since the beginning of class, which Rose considered a small victory.

Then, the professor's small grin evaporated and he cleared his throat. Kids dispersed disappointedly from their friends, clearly having wanted to talk about what happened. "Okay, class, you have just witnessed an amazingly performed Fire-Making Charm. I'm not saying it was flawless, but it was sure a whole heck of a lot better than your pathetic attempts! So let's discuss the occurrences. Rose Weasley, come up here and tell the class how you did it, please," said Professor Dunlap.

Rose tried to refocus on the task at hand and, giving a barely audible whimper, trudged nervously to the front of the room.

"Er, hi," she said softly, giving a small wave. "Well, er, I guess I… um, I guess I released some energy build-up from inside me." Rose winced and took a deep breath, wondering why she was so nervous and disoriented when being praised and used as an example like this had been what she'd wanted. She tried to think about how to word her feelings. She began again, this time trying to be less awkward.

"Er… In a Patronus, you think about a strong, powerful memory, right? Well, for this spell and, really, any other spell, you use the same technique. Putting your whole self into it, exerting your energy, and finding a cause for your magic will really help you. On a hunch, I recognized that I was making fire and for me, fire means anger and feeling impotent, and then I quickly recollected and tried to relive any especially strong memories that made me feel mad and helpless. Fire also means bravery and courage to me. Bravery and courage represent Gryffindor, as I subconsciously knew. I let that sense of belonging and yet not, feeling safe and yet out of control, and knowing what the charm meant to me take over. So, like I said before, I did it using all that energy build-up inside me, and, er, that's how I conjured fire like that."

The professor stood up and walked over to Rose. "Thank you, Ms. Weasley, you can sit back down in your seat now. Class, I hope you learned a great deal from your discussion with her today. Don't feel bad that you couldn't do it; this spell is taught to all fifth years here at Hogwarts. This assignment isn't graded, and it was merely a challenge. I knew most of you, if not all, would fail to complete it correctly, but I was interested to see where you would fall short. Yes, I was indeed watching as you worked.

"There was another reason I chose a charm that had to do with fire, besides that it was a complicated spell that I picked as a challenge. As you all know, I am the head of the Ravenclaw house. I therefore prize knowledge and logic, which brings me to why I chose the charm I did. Only one child in this room understood a logic so deep it is often missed until later, sometimes around third year. Ms. Weasley here correctly thought that she should bring to mind thoughts about her experience about fire; what it is to her, how it impacts her, and some examples. If any of you thought about anything other than goofing off with friends and unrelated things, you didn't put your whole self into it and connect with the object you are enhancing. Instead of simply performing the spell and creating a fire from a wand, Ms. Weasley went deeper and created a fire from herself and through her wand. I don't expect any of you to fully get the concept of this until you are of at your third, fourth, and fifth years here at Hogwarts, but I want you to try. One more thing, class; the thing that surprises me most about the situation is this: Miss Rose Weasley is not a Ravenclaw. Her biggest qualities are not her logic and knowledge, no matter how much she possesses, but her bravery and courage. Rose is a Gryffindor, a part of a house that is considered to be inferior to Ravenclaws on the smart side, simply because that is not what they value most and are most known for. If you take anything with you, boys and girls, when you exit this room, know that where you have been placed does not determine who you are. I know we are running out of time, so I will wrap up this lecture. Miss Rose Weasley, I award you five more points for teaching us all, including me, something new, and for mastering such a high level of moral and academic understanding. You are now dismissed, everyone."

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><p><strong>Here's the third chapter! I hope you like it, and, as always, thanks for your reviews! The next chapter will probably be finished next week, so I'll update then. For now, it's going to be mostly classwork and meeting some of our characters, but we'll get into some action later. <strong>


	4. Albus' First Evening

**Helloooo! Sorry for not updating in so long! Here's the next chapter :). It actually takes place before the last one, as it's right after the feast. Albus' first "official" day will be posted in about a week or so. A Rose chapter will be coming up after that.**

**As always, thanks for reading and reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Hogwarts and all the Harry Potter characters belong to the amazing J.K. Rowling.**

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><p><em><strong>Albus<strong>_

"First years, follow me." The Slytherin prefect, Jessica Cote, gravitated to the front of the group and led them purposefully out of the Great Hall, not reacting to the gasps of the other students as they marveled at the giant castle's interior. Albus jumped as the staircase underneath him trembled, only barely making it on before it moved and shifted course. He gripped the rail so he wouldn't fall off, then flashed Scorpius next to him a nervous smile - he wasn't sure of what to expect. He was used to magic, but hadn't experienced anything quite like this. What if the stairs moved on him, making him late to class? What would his dorm look like?

"Is it true that there are skulls in the common room?" he asked Scorpius curiously as they trailed after the prefect. Scorpius, Albus figured, would know all about the common room.

"Yes, and it's right next to the lake, so you can see fish from the windows. I heard that sometimes they even catch a glimpse of the giant squid swimming past." Scorpius didn't sound very enthusiastic as he answered. "But you'll see soon enough," he added with an indifferent shrug.

"Are all the ghosts like the Bloody Baron?" Albus shuddered, recalling the cold touch of the specter as it met his skin. The Bloody Baron had sat next to him and Scorpius for most of the feast, and Albus was determined to never be that close to one again. It was interesting to talk through his transparent body at first, but the ghost's ragged appearance was a bit off-putting. Finally, a fed-up Scorpius had chucked an apple at it, which only served to go through it and hit Albus' forehead. Nevertheless, it caused the ghost to float away and leave them in peace.

"Fortunately not. I mean, they are still people, just dead. Sort of," Scorpius said. "I don't know too much about them, though. Has your brother ever mentioned Nearly Headless Nick?"

"A few times. My dad, too. He once attended his deathday party."

"Ghosts celebrate their deaths?" Scorpius looked strangely interested.

"That's what I wondered myself. Shouldn't their deaths be a bad thing? I'd think so."

"Me, too. But then, they are dead. Maybe there's nothing better for them to do."

"That could be it."

Cote pulled to a stop as they reached a part of the wall. She said the password, and that certain spot opened to reveal the common room, which indeed contained a numerous amount of skulls. Albus could also spot a school of fish swimming past in the window, true to Scorpius's word.

"It's very green," Albus observed. The lake water cast a greenish glow throughout the room, making the already green furniture look a deeper shade of emerald. Even the silver patches were tinged in a viridescent hue.

"That _is_ one of the colors of Slytherin," Scorpius reminded him, looking just as fascinated by the common room, albeit a bit pale bathed in the green light.

Soon, all the first years had been situated into their own dorms, each of which held five students. Albus's consisted of three boys he didn't know, as well as one he did: Scorpius. Albus was grateful to at least recognize one friendly face. Scorpius and him had quickly made friends at the feast, mutually concurring not to discuss the rift between their parents.

"After all," Scorpius had said, "that was a long time ago, and it was between them, not us."

Albus agreed, but he felt that others, particularly his uncle, wouldn't. He'd already seen what James thought about the unexpected House placement, and that didn't serve to help ease Albus' nerves. He pushed these worries away as he sat on his new green and silver bed, unpacking his textbooks from their bag. _I shouldn't brood on things that I don't know will happen. Maybe nobody will even care, _he attempted to reassure himself, but knew it wasn't reality.

"My name's Aidan Rainwater," one of the boys introduced himself, lowering his black suitcase onto his bed. "And I know who you are, son of Harry Potter."

"I prefer Albus, or Al," Albus said stiffly.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," Aidan amended genially as he began arranging his belongings, and Albus caught sight of a particularly large chocolate frog card collection in his suitcase. He wondered if the boy had collected the card for his dad. "Nice to meet you, Al. This is Stephen Nott, and that's Matthew Vang," Aidan finished. The one called Stephen Nott looked up at the sound of his name, then nodded to Albus in greeting.

"Hi," Albus said, nodding in return.

"I met Stephen at the feast, but I've known Vang for a while. Our families are really close, though I'd expect that I'm related to about half of the others in this entire house. Even Scorpius is like my third cousin or something like that," Aidan explained, smiling. "My mother was a pureblood, but then she married my father, so I'm a half-blood."

"I am, too," Albus said. "Are there many half-bloods in Slytherin?"

"I'd think so," Aidan mused. "The real question is, are there any muggleborns? Oi!" he called, and Albus jumped. "Anyone here a muggleborn?"

"Margaret Steele is!" one of the boys shouted. "Oh, I'm Callum Nanton, by the way. Half-blood," he added hastily, glancing at his housemates.

Matthew Vang sneered, but didn't say anything.

"And there you have it." Aidan turned away from the scene and nodded to Albus. "Anyway, what are you most looking forward to? I'm especially excited to begin Transfiguration, I hope we have it soon." He looked overjoyed at the prospect of attending Transfiguration, and Albus was reminded of Rose.

"I'm not sure yet," Al answered honestly, then stood up. "I'm going to look around, want to come?" But, to Albus's relief, Aidan rejected the offer. He'd rather explore alone. So he left his bags by the bed, and wandered about the room, glancing halfheartedly at the portraits and decorations.

"Oh look, first years," snarled a surly man with greasy hair in one of the portraits. "What a surprise."

"Hello," Albus said amiably, to the portrait's annoyance. Albus, unfazed by his penetrating death glare, continued. "My name is Albus Potter, and who are you?" He kept his voice even, but startled when the man's eyes flashed.

"_Albus Potter?"_ he repeated incredulously, then his gaze locked on Albus's vivid green eyes. Albus fidgeted under the intense stare, but didn't say anything until the man tore his eyes away and reluctantly asked, "As in, Harry Potter?"

"He's my father, but you didn't answer my question. Oh - are you Severus Snape?" Albus gaped as he finally recognized his namesake by his most prominent feature: the hooked nose.

"The very same," Snape snapped. "Now, please tell me what on earth a Potter is doing in the Slytherin common room. Is this some twisted prank?"

Albus blinked. "No, I was sorted here." A note of impatience crept into his voice, but he brushed it away.

"Were you?" Snape's lip curled.

"_Yes_," Albus insisted, wondering if he'd have to undergo the same interrogation from his family. He could already hear them asking, "what's a Potter doing in Slytherin?" in a tone identical to the condescending one the former Headmaster was using.

"And your name is Albus Potter?" Snape checked, as if he'd heard wrong the first time.

"Yes, and my middle name is Severus. After you." Albus nodded. He paused, then, concealing a smirk, added, "My father called you the bravest man he'd ever met."

"I -" Snape seemed to have been rendered speechless by this statement, just as Albus intended.

"So, why are you here and not with the other headmasters?" He broke in, and Snape resumed his glaring, apparently grateful for the interruption.

"I have two portraits, which I can travel through freely," he explained.

"You spend some of your time here, and the rest there?"

"I don't often come down here. Sometimes I just need to get away from Dumbledore; listening to him rant on and on is enough to drive a portrait mad," Snape said curtly.

"Dumbledore?" Albus snapped to attention. "Could I meet him?"

"Oh, yes, the other one you're named after. I don't suppose Dumbledore also had the honor of being the bravest man your father ever knew?" Snape drawled.

"I don't know too much about Dumbledore, actually, just the general things like him being headmaster. My father doesn't like to talk about him or you."

"Hmm," was all Snape had to say about that.

"What was that, sir?" Albus asked, feigning innocence.

"I see now perhaps how you came to achieve this house," Snape commented, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh." Albus hesitated, considering this.

"I only hope you're more talented than your father. Maybe you'd know the difference between wolfsbane and monkshood-"

"But there is no difference." Albus tilted his head to the side slightly, questioning. "Monkshood, wolfsbane, and aconite are all the same thing."

"Precisely. Might I ask where you would find a bezoar?"

"The stomach of a goat," he responded without missing a beat, silently thanking Rose for drilling the basic information about potions into his head. ("_You never know when a potion will go terribly wrong, so it's always best to keep a bezoar with you; that way you don't waste time trying to brew a counter potion. Are you writing all this down?"_)

Snape's expression didn't reveal whether or not he was correct. "What will I get if I add Powdered Root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"

"Draught of Living Death, a powerful sleeping potion."

"So you aren't as completely hopeless as your father," Snape conceded.

"I'll try," Albus said, not sure how to respond to that. His father wasn't hopeless in any sense, so should he take it as a compliment that Snape considers him above even his father, or plainly as an insult to his father? He took it as the former, though knew it was most likely the latter.

"Will you," Snape stated dryly.

"Though I doubt anyone would be able to compare to the hero of the wizarding war." Albus added, watching as Snape's mouth tighten. The man, scowling, stalked out of his portrait, signifying that their conversation was over.

"What are you doing?" Scorpius had come to stand next to him, and was looking at the portrait in confusion. "You're standing there and talking to a picture frame."

"Looks like you answered your own question." Albus grinned.

"Yeah, but why?" Scorpius pressed.

"It wasn't just an empty picture _before_, because there was a man in it," Albus explained. He and Scorpius began walking back to their dorm, realizing that it was already pretty late.

"So you were talking to someone who lived in a picture?"

"Yes, I was talking to the picture of a dead man."

"Cool, next time invite me."

"Your desire to speak with the dead concerns me," Albus quipped.

"Hey, you were the one actually speaking with the dead."

"He was the man I was named after," Albus said thoughtfully, the realization only just hitting him. So that was the man he had been named after, the bravest man his father had known. It was strange to finally put an identity to that name.

"Albus Dumbledore? But he couldn't-"

"No, my middle name. Severus. Severus Snape."

"I've heard about him." Scorpius's face became unreadable. "From my father."

"Same here." Albus couldn't help wondering what Scorpius had been told. Not the same things he had been, judging by how his friend averted his eyes to the floor.

They were quiet as they trudged back towards their dormitory, but when they reached their beds - Albus' was in between Scorpius' and Aidan's - the silence was broken.

"Good first day?" Scorpius asked.

"It wasn't really a first day, more of an afternoon, or evening-"

"You know what I mean. What are your first impressions?"

Albus pondered that for a few moments. At first he'd been anxious, then scared, then shocked, then panicked, then distraught, then maybe a little comforted. A little, but there was still so much to worry about and think over. "It's been eventful, that's for sure."

Scorpius snorted sleepily. "That's for sure," he echoed, but then Albus drifted off to the calming swishing of the lake water before he could say anything else.


	5. Albus' Technical First Day

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine except the plot and a few OCs! Albus, Rose, Scorpius, and others belong to J. K. Rowling :)**

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><p><em><strong>Albus<strong>_

"Now what, Al?" Scorpius asked as he lowered his wand.

Albus hurriedly scanned _Magical Drafts and Potions_, which was now opened to the recipe for a Cure for Boils. "We have to wait for about 33 minutes," he relayed from the page. "After that, we put in the horned slugs. Hey, weren't we supposed to have four of those?"

Scorpius glanced at the other slugs on their table, and confirmed to Albus that they were indeed short a slug. "But I don't see it - never mind. It's only over there." He gestured to a small, green creature that was gradually inching away from them. He didn't move to pick it up.

"You're not going to get it? All right then, I'll just put it back with the others -" Albus plucked the slug off the table and dropped it next to the other ones. Immediately, it began to squirm away again, but he prodded it back with his finger. This time, the slug stayed put, although it seemed rather irritated by this treatment towards it.

"So now we just wait?" Scorpius fiddled with a snake fang as he spoke. When it pricked him, he hastily set it down, wincing.

Albus stifled a smirk and answered, "Now we wait."

He bent over their cauldron, then compared its contents to those of his classmates. A few of the cauldrons had liquefied when on the heat; Albus figured a few of them must have forgotten to turn off the heat before putting in the porcupine quills. His godfather, Neville, had told Albus stories from his own personal experience in potion making, many of them ending in similar disasters. When Neville himself had attempted at brewing a cure for boils, his potion had melted his cauldron, along with the shoes of his unsuspecting classmates. His potions had a tendency to behave in this way fairly often; they usually did the exact opposite of their intended purpose. Albus, with satisfaction, realized that his and Scorpius' potion looked exactly how it was supposed to by this point in color and consistency. It was like something he could do well that many people he was close to couldn't. Both his mother and father hadn't been entirely inept at brewing, but Albus had heard tales of their own time in Potions class, which had been taught by a certain greasy-haired man he'd met last night who favored the Slytherins and never gave his father any sympathy or kindness. He had, according to Albus' mother, acted this way to all Gryffindors; he seemed to hold a grudge against them. Now Albus knew this man personally, and wasn't really sure if he'd actually been as brave as his father had said. Not that Albus didn't appreciate the sentiment, but somehow to him it seemed strange that his parents had named him after a person who had been that way towards them for years. There was obviously more to it that his father thought he couldn't understand, because whenever Albus asked, the subject was quickly changed. Albus suspected it had to do with the war, but he didn't know the details of it as his parents were "saving it for when he gets older". Albus wished he could understand _now_, to see why what happened did happen, to truly _get_ the reason his father was so famous and why others treated him and his family differently because of it. Why were people so interested in him just because of his father? Albus sighed to himself as he stared at the still potion resting peacefully in the potion, feeling as though he could just dissolve into it. Then he conceded that maybe asking Snape himself about the subject would warrant a response to put his mind at ease.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he nearly jumped out of his seat when someone poked his shoulder.

"You there? Our cure for boils is done heating. What next?" said Scorpius pointedly with his hands poised above the ingredients in front of him.

"The horned slugs," Albus replied shakily, uncertain of why he suddenly felt so flustered. He took a shallow breath and quickly checked the book to review the recipe once again.

"Horned slugs. Okay," Scorpius repeated, eyeing them distastefully. "Why don't, er, you do that, and I'll watch, to see if you do something wrong?" His voice rose an octave at the end of his sentence.

Albus snickered, taking note of Scorpius's repugnance of the horned creatures. "What, afraid of some slugs?"

"No!" Scorpius responded defensively. "I just...don't like to touch them." He averted his gaze.

"Don't worry, I'll do it," Albus assured him with an amused expression. He made a grab for one of the slugs, but it darted just out of reach. His smile shifted into a puzzled frown. There wasn't much he knew about slugs, but could they really move that quickly? He dismissed it as perhaps a trick of the light and reached for another one. It simply streaked away, leaving a slimy mark on the table. Finally, after many failed attempts, he managed to snag one, but it wriggled between his fingers and slipped. It was only a fleeting stroke of luck that allowed it to drop right into the cauldron. "Great," Albus muttered sourly, "now I just have to hope that happens three more times."

Scorpius sniggered, offering no help whatsoever.

"Thanks." Albus rolled his eyes. "Thanks a lot." Then he scooped up a slug, which then fell right back down through his fingers. Just like all the others had. He came to a conclusion: someone had messed with his slugs. There was no way this was natural.

"Scorpius," Albus nudged his friend, "I think someone's done something to our slugs." He scanned the room for anyone who looked suspicious, especially the Gryffindors, who hated the Slytherins, even though Al had tried in vain to convince himself it wasn't true. Gryffindors and Slytherins were natural rivals, even enemies. So if anyone was messing with their slugs, it would be a Gryffindor. Probably, Albus figured, trying to ensure that none of them would be awarded any points.

"Hmmm?" Scorpius blinked. "Done with those slugs yet?"

Albus ignored him, intent on finding the culprit. He didn't want to mess up on his first potions lesson all because some Gryffindor had caused his slugs to malfunction! Scorpius shrugged and put his head down again.

When Albus' searching gaze found Rose, working contentedly on her potion with a partner who seemed entirely uninterested in helping her, he tried to catch her eye. But Rose didn't notice him and continued talking to herself, most likely reciting the recipe to the potion under her breath. She had memorized many of the potions already; her copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_ lay unopened next to her. Albus smiled, admiring her enthusiasm and ability to learn quickly. They'd practiced certain spells together before school, and while Albus was decent at performing them, he wasn't as good at the theory and logic behind it. Rose, however, constantly surprised him with her profound understanding of, well, everything. Next to Rose, with her blazing red hair and personality to match, Albus was transparent. But he had become accustomed to it. He was often overlooked, given his parents and his older, louder, braver brother James and his kinder, smart, loving sister Lily. James was the brave one, Lily was the compassionate one, while Al was merely the calm one, forever stuck in the middle.

_Yes, that's all very nice, but there's a potion I have to complete, and I can't do that with my slugs bouncing all over the place! _Albus impatiently interrupted himself to keep from drifting off into his own thoughts, as he tended to do at the worst possible moments.

Albus moved on to the pair behind his cousin, hoping that no one noticed that he had been staring at her blankly for nearly a minute.

One of the two girls at that table was enthusiastically rattling on about something Albus couldn't hear and didn't really care about. Her partner was nodding in response to whatever she was saying, but Albus noticed with curiosity that every few moments she'd check to see if anyone was watching, then angle her wand from underneath her desk and whisper something. Albus narrowed his eyes as he pieced it together; so this was the person who caused all the slugs to race around the desks like that! He discreetly inclined his wand towards her and cast a spell of his own her way. The girl gasped as her wand was knocked from her grip; Albus saw her nervously glance at the professor, who was currently testing another student's potion. She gave a quick sigh of relief when she saw that she hadn't been caught, then ducked under her table to retrieve her fallen wand. Albus, satisfied that she wasn't going to target anyone else's slugs, turned back to his own potion. It had slightly overheated, but the color didn't look off and he didn't hesitate to finish dropping the slugs in.

"Finally finished with the slugs yet?" Scorpius had evidently fallen asleep. How he had managed to wake himself up so efficiently, Albus didn't know.

"Yes, no thanks to you," said Albus, carefully taking the cauldron off the fire. By the time he reached for the porcupine quills, Scorpius was already there, placing them in. They continued on in this way, finding that they made a pretty good team. It showed too, when Professor Vaughan reached their potion. He gave them a rare smile and two points for their work.

"That wasn't too hard." Scorpius grinned as he began cleaning up their cauldron, pouring its contents in a vial for the professor to grade.

"Well, you're much better at it than I am," Albus laughed as he wiped away the slug tracks. It was true. When they had first begun working, he hardly had any idea of how to prepare even the simple cure for boils. Scorpius, on the other hand, knew exactly how to crush the snake fangs, and taught Albus how, as well. It seemed to come to him with fair ease after that.

Albus couldn't help wondering, though he'd one well this time, if he'd be able to keep up in later classes. Sure, he could make a cure for boils, but what would he do when faced with a harder challenge? He wondered whether his next class, Transfiguration, would prove to be difficult or easy to him.

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><p>Albus ran into someone in his rush to find his Transfiguration classroom. He mumbled a quick apology, but then caught sight of the girl's face.<p>

"Hey," he realized, "you're the one who tampered with our slugs!"

"Oh." The girl blushed. "Maybe. Hey!" she added indignantly, "that means you must be the one who disarmed me! I could've gotten caught!"

"But if you hadn't done it, then there wouldn't be anything to get caught for," Albus pointed out, annoyed by her accusing tone. _I was only trying to make my potion, no need to turn it into a huge deal. _

"Whatever, I wasn't hurting anyone," she huffed. "What's it to you? Now I have to get to Charms. See you." Albus watched, shocked, as she pushed past him. He concluded that he'd never understand exactly why girls acted like they did and took off to Transfiguration, hoping he wasn't already too late.


End file.
